It's definitely from the era when Victorian architecture was coming fully into vogue, at least. Seems the classic haunted aesthetic. Not a newer take on an old fashion - this house has weight. It's stood here a long time.

The grounds are protected by a still intact iron fence, hedges grown over and through it, brambles with wicked thorns warning off all but the most stubborn teenagers on dares. Ellie can get through it, though. Killing plants is pretty basic. Past that - overgrown, again, roses tumbling across the yard like spilled beads from a greenhouse off to the house's right, the glass in it shattered. Other flowers have taken root and grown wild, but the roses - they're the showiest. Dark, moody reds predominate, with a few splashes of large white roses with a bright red on their edges trying to push through. The pathway under Ellie's feet - totally absent outside the gates - is intact, black and white stones forming complicated swirling patterns. Trees grow tall and scraggly throughout, forming a dark canopy that only reluctantly lets the moonlight through.

The house itself... Large and rambling, though the front facade is a bit deceptive about how large and rambling. The paint is faded entirely, chipped off and greyed, but - it might've been dark, once. The windows are intact, mostly, only a single broken one up in the attic, and the form of the house is -

Shockingly straight. Like someone smudged the house after it was newly built. There's no sagging. No missing roof tiles. No apparent rot, not in the grand front porch nor in the sideboards. Birds have nested in every plausible nook or cranny, but - there's no signs of damage from animals, either.

The wind moans around Ellie, low and cold.

The doors to the house are enormous and hard to miss, stained glass windows flanking them. They're said to be unlocked.

They make an obvious entrance point, then.

It is... a little strange, the condition of the house. Though convenient for her, if it's not a moldy old ruin.

The entryway is - in much more terrible condition. Still looks structurally sound, but the interior's trashed and coated in a thick layer of dust. It's impossible to tell how it used to be decorated. There's an enormous staircase curling around the room, starting on her left, a small door to her right, and an entrance into another room straight ahead. There's picture frames, the glass smudged and cracked.

The light in the room is - incongruous with how bright and where the moon was. Warmer. Angled like a beam from above, even though there's no light hanging, no hole in the ceiling.

There's a shiver in the floorboards. A deep, angry moan.

Old furnace or something, maybe.

First she needs to see if there's a decent place to set up. Straight ahead?

It takes her to an empty-ish room, except some dust and debris. There's a grand fireplace, bricks faded, on the wall opposite the entry, but not much else. Looks like there's a kitchen to the right, maybe, and another closed door to the left. It's pretty big.

There's a wind kicking up some of the dust into little swirls, even though the door to the outside is closed.

Old sitting room, maybe. Strange that there's no furniture.

Ellie coughs.

She needs to do something about this dust, though. Maybe the kitchen has a window she can open.

That'd be a no! It's a very closed in, dark kitchen - there maybe used to be a window, but it looks like it's been boarded up. The kitchen does at least have furniture, though.

Maybe she can drag out a chair and a table to the big room. Prop open the door and the front.

The side door reveals a cluttered room, full of junk and cobwebs and more dust...

And a massive gust of wind pours in the front door, kicking the dust up into a storm inside the house - and slamming the front door shut again on the back draft.

The house moans.

Ack!

"Dust," she chokes, "needs to go out."

The house - shivers?

Yeah that's great but she needs some fresh air now.

She goes to open the front door.

The door's very, very heavy, more so than it was.

"Ah, dammit..."

There's a soft whistle of wind inside the room, an almost questioning sound if Ellie was inclined to personify a house, and the dust starts to settle.

She's starting to think there really is a ghost in here.

"Look, if you want me to stay, you need to not stir up the dust so I can breathe."

A soft moan -

And the dust settles, very rapidly.

"...Better."

Another small shiver, a sound almost like the house is settling on its foundations, even though it seems very, very stable.

"Though it'd be better still if you just got the dust all the way out. Or all piled up in a small room somewhere."

Mmmmrn.

"Well, whatever. Just keep it on the floor. I'll bring a blanket or something next time."

The air feels a bit heavy, then -

Some of the dust rearranges. Not very neatly, with little gusts of wind, but none of it's going into Ellie's eyes or throat. Just her shoes.

WHY

"Because I don't want my things to get dirty and the texture of a dusty surface is unpleasant."

More dust swirls, adding words.

WHY COME BACK

"I need a quiet place to work, but wasn't planning on sleeping here."

Mmmrn.

WHAT WORK? 

"Witch things."

WHO ARE YOU? 

"My name's Ellie."

The house shifts. 

WHAT WITCH THINGS? 

"Stuff out of my grimoire, mostly." She pats her bag. "I haven't gotten all the way through it yet."

WHAT CAN YOU DO? 

"One time I exsanguinated a mouse and then made it run around on its hind legs."

SMALL. 

CAN YOU MANIFEST ANCHORS?

The handwriting (wind writing?) has an almost desperate air to it, letters slashed quickly. 

"Dunno what those are. I can check. Everything else I've tried has worked."

I NEED ONE TO LEAVE.

And then a gust of wind smudges out 'leave,' and then changes the message to:

I NEED ONE TO EXIST.

A pause, before:

I CAN TEACH YOU.

Huh.

"Okay..."

The wind - jitters a bit, back and forth, the writing all smudging, though none of the dust swirls up into Ellie's eyes.

I WANT TO SEE YOU.

GO UPSTAIRS.

"-Do you have a name?"

NOT ANYMORE

Hmm.

Upstairs, then.

A very helpful breeze and some arrows in the dust point her to... A very creepy door into another room near the back of the main house.

She hesitates before opening it.

It doesn't attack her, or do anything weird, or make odd noises -

The room beyond is entirely intact, like the inhabitant got up and stepped out to get some coffee five minutes ago. A dress draped across the back of a chair, a messy pile of blankets and dolls on the bed, a hand mirror and comb askew on the vanity, ashes in the fireplace and stacks of books on a side table and in a corner and on a chair...

It's faded, though. Not dirty, not dusty - drained, all the color and life removed. It's quiet, and the windows don't show the world outside, just - a soft, unreal glow.

"Was this your room?"

There's a girl, the same grey and silver tones as the room -

A woman, perhaps, but she looks young and lost even though she's probably a bit older than Ellie (even ignoring how long she's been dead). Her clothes are... Old fashioned, but it's hard to place the era. She's in a pretty simple night dress.

"Yeah," she says, softly.

"Oh." Wow she's pretty.

"Uh, hi?"

Small smile.

"Hi."

"So you're... a ghost?"

"Yeah." Shrug.

"Never met a ghost before."

"I don't meet a lot of the living, so."

"Sounds like we're even, then."

"Perhaps."

"What year is it, out there?"

"Two thousand eleven."

"Oh."

"It's been a while, then..."

"How long?"

"Over a century."

"That's a long time..."

"It has been."

She looks away. "Where'd you get a grimoire?"

"The library's basement."

"Which library?"

"The old one down in the center of town, on Short Street."

"Oh."

"I remember when that opened."

"I guess that makes sense."

Nod.

"It's nice that it's still there."

"Yeah."

"So, this anchor thing."

Nod.

"It's - a body, in many ways. A shell that contains and holds your soul so that Death can't find it, but one you can't go very far from."

"Is this room your anchor now?"

"The house is, but - I didn't make it, and it wasn't. Stable. So the room's the only piece - at all healthy."

"What do I need to make a new anchor?"

"Something hollow and portable, that's appropriately aesthetic, but you can use necromancy to change how things look, so that matters a bit less."

"What's the appropriate aesthetic?"

"Something I'd want to have my soul stuck in, of course."

"Uh-huh."

She giggles. "It is actually important. You can't stick someone in something they don't identify with, at some level or another."

"Well, all I have right now is a water bottle."

"Not something I could easily be, I don't think."

"You'll have to give me some clues, then."

Hum. "Something pretty, but not in a flower sort of way - I guess unless it's a very dangerous flower."

"Dangerously shiny. I'll keep an eye out."

She laughs. "You know me already."

"I guess. Anything else I need to prepare."

Hum. "Some things."

She can provide Ellie with a shopping list for ritual components. (Fortunately, all the ones the ghost thinks are rare or difficult to get, Ellie recognizes as things the local crystals-and-hippie-stuff shop sells. Either that or the grocery store.)

"Cool. It'll probably take me a couple days to come up with everything."

"Will you come back before then?"

"In theory, no reason why not."

"I'd like you to."

"You can sleep here. There's no dust."

"I didn't bring what I'd need to spend the night."

"What else do you need?"

"Toothbrush. Change of clothes. Breakfast."

"There's clothes here..."

"But you probably don't want my toiletries."

"Thanks for offering, but no."

Nod. "...I'm not going to try to stop you from leaving."

"That does make me more willing to come back."

"I'll never trap you somewhere. - Not on purpose. I wasn't - awake, earlier, when the door got stuck."

"I'll try not to do it on accident."

"Great."

"I should get going soon, then."

...Nod.

"Okay."

"I'll be awake when you're back."

"Enough to open the door for me?"

"Yeah."

"Good. I'll see you later, then."

And time to head out.

"Wait," the ghost says before she leaves. "I - if you promise to come right back here where we can talk, I could remove the dust in the house? So it's nicer."

"-That would be nice."

"Okay. I'll do that."

"I'll look forward to seeing the change."

Small smile. "We'll see how much I can clean up."

"Until next time."

"Until then."

And Ellie leaves.

And the house waits for her return.

It takes her a couple days to gather everything. The bulk of the time is spent hemming and hawing over what exactly to propose for the container. She- wants to get it right the first time. Finally, she decides on a knife-and-sheath from the crystal shops, a fancy one with a dark-stained blade and red leather with silver wrapping for the hilt and sheath.

It's back to the house that evening.

The house has been - waiting.

She started despairing after the second day. The gardens are a bit wilted. But the house is almost painfully prepared, cleaned up - fretted over. The portraits she hated are just gone, and everything is perfectly clean, the windows un-smudged so light shines into the house. It's - prettier, that way. More ethereal and sad, less creepy and threatening. The exterior is cleaner, though the paint isn't any less faded or chipped. The brambles and hedges and overgrowth have retreated from the paths.

Huh. That's a bigger change than she was expecting.

Ellie walks up the path to the front door.

It swings open with a little sigh from the house.

"...I'm home," she calls as she enters, feeling a little silly.

Up to the bedroom upstairs.

The house shivers as she enters. 

The ghost is sitting on her bed when Ellie enters, smiling broadly. "Welcome back! I - was getting worried."

"That I wouldn't come back?"

Her smile fades a little. "Some? Or - that'd I'd drift off and stop being awake before you did."

"Well, I did, and you didn't. So."

"I got the stuff." She takes out the miscellaneous supplies. "And for the vessel-" Knife?

She leans forward, making a very interested noise. "Oh, it's pretty."

(She liked it!)

"Think it'll work?"

"Wonderfully so."

"Great."

"How do I get started?"

"Well..." She describes the usual rituals, and the variations she's aware of - and her theories about how it all works, and what bits you actually need...

She knows a lot about magic, but, also, this is way more complicated than anything Ellie has done to date - it requires a sort of meditative focused intent, a working as permanent as workings can be. Tricky, that. Everything Ellie has encountered so far has been stubbornly, extremely, ephemeral. 

"Necromantic workings don't like living," she says. "They want to return to the dust, and they'd rather not bring anything to life in the meantime. Making a corpse dance... That's a really impressive first try, honestly. But every thread of magic that exists wants me fully, properly dead, and we're going to have to turn it against itself."

Hrm. "Well. I don't want you dead."

Grin. "A wonderful place to start. You can do a lot with just that - your strong will is probably why even the trickier workings have come easily so far - but you'll need to bring your cleverness to bear alongside your strength for this."

"Right."

"What happens if I mess up?"

"Worst case? We both die, and if the grimmest philosophers are right, we get punished for our hubris in whatever comes after."

"More likely - you're fine, and I either snap back here or become unmoored. Second probably will fully kill me eventually, but you'll have time to redo the ceremony."

Huff.

"No pressure, then."

"None at all."

"I'll help, as much as I can, and necromancy is good at self-sabotage, in many ways."

"Hm?"

"It's Death magic, all of it, and it wants all things to die."

"Now, with rocks and streams and all - that's a pretty easy order. Rocks get worn to dust, streams dry up, everything gets broken down and recycled. Nothing natural can hold out against that cold implacability, that patience, for eternity. It'll be worn down, sooner or later."

"Life, though? Life's a thorn in Death's side. Cut a rock, and it stays broken. Cut skin, and it heals. Messily, sometimes, but it does, and cold and implacable and patient can't keep up with that, and even sitting and waiting for the inevitable trip - well, Life's pretty good at innovation."

"So if your enemy's walls are too high, their guards too numerous and vigilant, their supplies robust and their ability to recover guaranteed - you get creative right back. You turn them against themselves."

"Cut a woman's neck, and her heart will beat furiously to try and get blood to the brain and therefore spill everything of value out, rather than moving slow and calm to stem the tide. A bee stings a man, and his body kills itself trying to protect him from a tiny wisp of a toxin. The body's own cells turn against it, growing out of control, strangling all life."

"Humans are ridiculous creatures, and Death is very, very good at getting things to sabotage themselves - and necromancy is Death's magic, not Life's."

"It's wonderfully poetic, don't you think, to use Death's very tools against her?"

"Wow."

"You know a lot."

"I'm very smart, and I've had a lot of time to study."

Giggle.

"Fortunately you have me here to pass on some of my vast wisdom."

"Quite."

"There are some specific tricks, of course."

"If you're talking, I'll listen."

"Strength of will, intelligence, and now great wisdom... You're a talented woman."

"Let's see if I'm good enough to get you out of this house."

"We can take our time if you're unsure, as - long as you're willing to keep coming back."

"I think I'm good. You've waited long enough."

"Thanks."

Down to business, then.

Ellie sets up the spell components and begins the ritual.

It's a long process, with multiple phases.

The first is clearing the area - the ghost's current sphere of influence - of conflicting energy, of any currents that might strengthen Death's case. Much of this involves spraying water the ghost instructed her in how to mix together - she's very fascinated and delighted by the idea of a spray bottle rather than the traditional solutions. 

This also involves picking up and moving offending objects off her 'property' - the ghost can't force things past the edges herself. Things that belonged to other people - old remnants of the house's previous inhabitants, the sort of trash you get in a haunted property popular with dumb kids who want to give each other dares...

And - "Are you at all bothered by bones?" she asks. 

"Dry ones? Not particularly."

"I haven't killed anyone in a while, so they're all quite dry."

"No problem, then."

Grin. "They're mostly collected down in the basement - I'd figured that was classic - and there should be some boxes you can load things up in. The river out behind the property is a good dumping ground for bodies, though be careful you don't fall in. It's faster and deeper than it looks."

"I'll be careful. Keep the door open, yeah?"

Off to collect some bodies. Ellie's a bit curious if they used to be the ghost's family or what.

Sadly, the ghost can't answer questions outside her room without something to write in. 

The skeletons are grouped, all the bones that belonged to each person laid out fairly carefully, their skulls on a little ledge above their bodies, some of what might be their belongings at their feet. This is a big basement - it probably used to be a root cellar - and there's something like a dozen skeletons, all adults. Some of the belongings look distinctly more modern than the ghost's 'been here for over a century.' The newest looks like the owner might've been from the seventies or eighties -

About when the more salacious ghost stories place an unexplained disappearance of a college-aged girl in the area, actually. 

Lots of the bones are broken, too, nearly universally the calf bones on at least one leg, often also hands, forearms, and ribs. Some broken neck and collar bones, too.

The doors are all helpfully propped wide open. 

...Was she- collecting people? Breaking a leg would be a good way of trapping someone. Wonder how she did it.

Suppose Ellie was lucky to have caught her interest in other ways, then.

She gathers up the bones and starts ferrying them out.

The house is pretty helpful! As much as she can be, at least, but she can move a broom in - and then a second broom which she animates to help sweep the little stubborn bone shards into boxes. 

It does seem like she has a much worse hold on the skeletons than everything that belongs in the house; she doesn't even try animating them. 

That's why Ellie's here.

She returns to the room after she's done.

"Hey," she says. "Thanks for doing that."

"Thanks for not breaking my legs."

Giggle. "You're interesting. And you stayed really calm even when I was being grouchy and half asleep, and you weren't a jerk."

"Those other people didn't?"

"No. Though I was also a lot grouchier right after my death - the most recent girl had been the first in a while, and I tried to make friends first. But she was a jerk and not really interesting so I had a different kind of fun instead."

She tilts her head, examining Ellie.

She crosses her arms.

"My bones are off-limits."

She laughs. "I'd never."

"Are you bothered that I killed other people?"

Shrug.

"Wasn't anyone I care about. Or knew, even."

"Good. I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"You haven't yet."

Bright smile. 

"Let's get working on the rest of the ritual..."

Back to work.

Cleaning was the most time consuming step. The proper ritual itself summons a heady feeling of power like nothing Ellie's ever done - she's gotten glimpses of this rush, but not the full scope of death at her fingertips.

Something shifts in the air, palpable, when the ghost's anchor snaps to the dagger sheath. Something about her shifts - not her appearance, really, or her behavior, but there's a feeling in the back of Ellie's teeth that whispers hunter, and the creeping feeling of a deep, threatening cave fades from the house. The room looks... Normal now, too, the window's constant hazy light fading to reveal the garden, the room looking merely old rather than drained. 

The knife sheath, though - it looks wicked now. 

"That was incredible."

"Yeah!!!" She laughs, twirling. "I feel so different!"

"More knifey?"

Giggle. "Yeah. And lighter."

"The sheath's a lot smaller than a house. So that... makes sense?"

"Less history, too, and what it has is - nice."

"You can tell that sort of thing?"

"I can tell what it means to me."

"Huh."

"You have very good taste."

"Thanks."

Giggle. "And talent, too."

"Helped by a knowledgeable tutor."

Preen!

Then: "Going outside's going to be - amazing."

"Want to go for a walk?"

"Absolutely."

"Let's go, then."

Ellie scoops up the knife and sheath.

She shivers.

"Lead the way."

Out they go.

She stares at everything, especially once they're outside, spinning around, a look of awe on her face.

" - I haven't been able to see outside my room - since," she says, abruptly.

"How much perception did you have in the house?"

"I could feel and hear things inside my territory, but - I couldn't see anything outside my room, and my senses were weaker outside the house, and I couldn't perceive anything off the grounds at all. And 'feeling' isn't entirely the right word? I had - a sense of where everything is, and what things did or didn't belong to me."

"Must have been strange."

"Yeah. It was."

"Mostly - lonely and boring, though. I moved everything I cared about to my room, where I could keep it from decaying, but... I've read all my books more times than I can count, by now."

Hum.

"There's more books, now."

"I bet."

"I - do want to get my books and stuff out of my room, lots of the books are rare and on magic and they're useful..."

"...I don't think I could stand to go back in there, right now."

"I can get them when I go back to get my things."

"Thanks."

"You're really good."

"Yeah, I'm just casually great."

"I'm noticing."

Laugh.

Grin!

"So where should I start in discovering all the literary marvels of this current age, o' excellent guide?"

"It's a little late for the library tonight, but you can come back to my place and browse the shelves."

"Perfect."

Ellie will start walking that way, then.

She drifts along behind. 

And eventually they get to Ellie's place.

It's not so large as the last house the ghost was at, but it's serviceable. And there are plenty of books, both fiction and non.

The books are the important part.

She spends a little time fascinated by the paper before starting to skim for an overview of the books so she can set to making a dent in them. 

A good chunk of them are about something called "programming languages" for computers, there's a selection of history, fantasy, science fiction, some newer-looking books on witchcraft ancient and modern, textbooks for anatomy, chemistry, zoology...

"Oh, have computers gotten better?" she asks after checking the summary of a programming book. 

"Uh. Just a bit, yeah."

She flips to the introduction. "...Do you have a technology book around by any chance?"

"Second shelf to your right."

She goes looking. "Things have jumped forward, haven't they?" she says, flipping it open. 

"Pretty suddenly from your perspective, I guess."

"This is my computer, by the way," she says, tapping the laptop on the table.

"It's so tiny."

"One of the bulkier options for portables, actually."

"There's even smaller ones?"

"Ones that can fit in your pocket, even."

"Aw, cute."

"'Cute' is an odd reaction."

"They're unusually small! That means they're cute."

"If you say so."

"I do! And I'm always right."

"From what I've seen so far, I guess I have to give that to you."

"You know, I like a woman who recognizes intelligence when she sees it."

Smirk with a hint of blush!

Smirk with no blush, just pleasure at the effect she's having on Ellie.

...Ellie is just going. Duck into the kitchen. To make a snack and definitely not scream silently to herself about how pretty this ghost lady is.

Her giggles are entirely silent. 

She does settle in to read about the wonders of the modern age while Ellie gets her composure back together, though. 

It's a fair few minutes before she comes back in with a cup of tea and a sandwich.

She's a fast reader, so she's gotten through quite a bit, but hardly a lot. 

"Hey," she says with a little smile.

"Hey."

Sip.

"...How are you holding that book?"

"Magic," she teases. 

"Oh, I see. No further questions, then."

Giggle. 

"It's yours," she says, "And you said I could read it, is my best guess. What I can and can't levitate as a ghost - especially now that my anchor is smaller than me - has always been a rather frustratingly opaque topic."

"Hmm. It's too bad this stuff isn't better studied."

"Definitely. There's been some progress, but... It keeps getting lost. My books back at the house do have what material I'd collected, though."

"I'll be sure to grab those."

"Thanks."

Smile.

She sits down and opens her laptop.

She floats over. "Mind if I watch?"

"If you want." Ellie tilts the screen a little so she can see better.

She comes to stare over Ellie's shoulder, very smoothly splitting her attention between whatever's on Ellie's screen at any given time, asking questions (though she does a lot of silent observation, too), and reading her book if the internet's current offerings are less interesting to her. Usually multiple at once; she doesn't actually have to have the image of her eyes pointed at something to read it, and apparently she has a better attentional capacity than living humans.

At one point while looking up a popular book series, some unfortunately explicit images turn up in the search.

"Whoop," Ellie says, hastily backing out.

She makes an interested noise. "My, they allow that sort of thing on the internet?" That is not a scandalized tone she has.

"Everything's allowed on the internet."

"Then it might just be the most marvelous thing about the current age."

"Lots of people would agree with you there."

"And now you're telling me many people are sensible? This is starting to get quite unbelievable."

"Welcome to the future."

"It's a nice place."

"Glad you think so."

Yawn.

"Have I been keeping you up?"

"Just a bit."

"I can let you sleep while I read, then."

"All right. G'night."

Ellie begins getting ready for bed.

She drifts back to focus on the shelves. Though she does, of course, also watch Ellie some. "You might want to leave my knife out here," she says when Ellie's heading back to the bedroom, "If you aren't intending to take me to bed."

"-Ah. Maybe save that for the third date."

"Which one are we on right now?"

"Second, I think."

"Well then. Maybe I'll find some books on what kids these days do for dates."

"I don't know that I have any books like that here."

"Maybe I'll take a crack at the internet myself."

"Uh. Just leave the script blocker on and don't click on anything that wants you to download something."

Giggle. "Noted."

"...See you in the morning, then."

"See you."

And Ellie's off to bed.

She spends the night reading both books and the internet, though honestly mostly books. Getting the internet to give her any actual reliable results (or even what she was looking for in the first place) is an exercise in frustration. So, treat everything there as fiction, and only look up fiction there when she's bored of the other books. (And Ellie has so very, very many good books; the ghost ends up using the internet to dig for basically just modern romance information.)

The sun comes up again well before Ellie begins to make groggy thinking-about-waking-up noises.

There's a ghost leaning over her face, staring at her, when she does wake up. 

Blink blink.

"Bwuh."

"Morning!" She says, very chipper. "Are you awake now?"

"...Arguably..."

"Can we do more things? What do you need to do more things."

"...Shower. And coffee."

"'Kay!"

She vanishes. Ellie might hear some shuffling in her kitchen. 

Mrglblr.

...She should get up before the coffee's done.

Okay one two three up-

-and into the bathroom.

A lovely smell of coffee quickly starts wafting around the house. 

Ellie exits the bathroom a little later wrapped in a towel, freshly showered and drawn toward the coffee as if by magnetism.

She's definitely not giggling, nope. (And definitely eyeing Ellie appreciatively. If that towel was a bit shorter...)

As for the coffee - there's a carafe of unaltered coffee, if Ellie wants to put together her own, but the ghost's also made up a mug of somewhat fancy-seeming coffee already. It smells cinnamon-y.

The mug is less effort, so she will take that first.

She watches Ellie taking the first sips.

(It's very flavorful, and very good if your tastes run that way. The ghost appears to have raided her spice cabinet for appropriately autumn-y spices. It's a little creamy, not too sweet... Very caffeinated...)

Mmm.

"'S good. Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Ellie comes more alive over the course of the cup. When she finishes, she sets it down on the table with a clink.

"...I should get dressed."

"Only if you want."

"-Not unless you no longer want to go to the library or get your books and you also take your clothes off."

"Very tough choices." Hum.

"The show's not free; decide quick."

Her clothes disintegrate into very showy sparkles.

"Well, the books will still be there tomorrow."

Laugh.

"If that's how you want to play it."

"I think it is. Though, sadly, I might have to get creative to be handsy..."

"I hope you're not going to let that stop you."

She lets the towel drop.

Appreciative whistle.

"Creativity is my specialty."

"Prove it."

Well then.

There's quite a lot of marvelous things in this house - in this very room. Ice cubes in the freezer, dish towels, her own knife... The ghost calls her sheathed knife to appear like it's held in her hand, first, and stalks up to Ellie, resting the sheath at the base of her neck.

"Not quite as good as a hand."

It trails down her body - and several ice cubes touch to her back.

Eep!

Giggle!

A metal salt shaker - also a bit cold - presses against her arm, and a dish cloth against the back of her neck, and the ice cubes trail their way down and start curling to her sides...

She squirms away from the cold things, giggling!

"Not your taste?"

"Not super. I like gentler touches on my own body."

"Duly noted." The cold things all withdraw, and soft, gentle, almost ticklish cloths replace them, drying Ellie's body and stroking her.

She likes this better.

Wonderful.

The cloths get very, very adventurous - stroking along Ellie's front, first, but there's not much she isn't intending to get to if Ellie lets her.

She's not inclined to stop her.

Good.

The ghost very much knows what she's doing - and she's in a taunting mood. She wants to make Ellie squirm.

That is an eminently achievable goal.

She licks her lips.

"You know... I've heard there's a trick some ghosts have of possessing mortals..."

"Oh?"

"I could slip into your skin," she purrs, "And wear your body like a favorite coat, and do whatever I want... Or we could find some disposable little shell, have a bit of fun before throwing her in the trash..."

"Hmm... I don't know that I'm ready to surrender control of myself like that."

"Well... Does the second option appeal, then?"

"It does."

"Well then..."

"I don't want to share this at all, so... We might have to cast around a bit. Find someone whose... Disappearance... Won't be traced back to you."

"This town's not that big..."

"Then a project for another day, perhaps."

Grin. "Seems like it."

"If we get my books first, there's some necromantic tricks you could practice, doing that..."

"Efficient combination. I like it."

"Practical experience is essential to learning, too."

"Fair point."

Giggle.

And her cloths run back over certain very squirm-inducing spots.

Wiggles!!

Best wiggles! And, since convenient disposable bodies are an unfortunate travel away, Ellie's going to just have to content herself with being the one driven to endless wiggles.

Ellie's appetite for wiggles, while large, is not literally endless. She'd prefer to reach a conclusion at some point.

Well, if she insists... 

Oh, she does.

A very satisfying conclusion it is, then. 

Mm, indeed.

"You're so, so beautiful," she murmurs. 

Heeee.

"You're fun."

"I could say the same to you."

"And you're pretty too, and I like you a lot."

"And you're drop-dead gorgeous."

"Good thing you're not alive, then."

"I'd have turned into a ghost the moment I met you. Death by pretty."

"What a way to go."

"It'd have been worth it. I do like you, very, very much."

Grin!

Heh.

"There's still a good bit of the day left, if you'll permit me to get dressed now."

"I suppose."

"Very gracious of you."

Ellie blows her a kiss as she stands, and struts off to get dressed.

She giggles and settles back to wait. (Perhaps she can put some more nice coffee in a travel mug for Ellie...)

She would appreciate that, if it were done.

It doesn't take her too long to dress.

The ghost is ready, then, with a nice big travel mug with some very, very delicious autumn-y coffee in it.

"Thanks," Ellie says, taking the mug. "So, library or house?"

Hum... "Probably house. I need to flip through the books again to check if there's an easy way to make myself look alive, or if I'll have to just go invisible."

"Can do."

Ellie tucks the knife into the waist of her pants before heading out.

She shivers about that, and follows along behind (invisibly, so no one notices her).

They don't encounter any issues on the way back to the house.

"Should I leave you out here?"

"...Yeah. I don't want to go back in."

"All right." She puts the knife on the ground outside the grounds. "I'll be back."

"Okay."

"Thanks for this."

"No problem."

And she heads up the path and inside. She has a couple bags, so she should be able to get at least the most important books out.

There's a lot of books, but, the ghost has a pretty exact memory of her entire catalog and what Ellie would need to bring to retrieve them - and, once they're out, the ghost can float them around if they don't want to make multiple trips between this house and Ellie's house.

(There's so many books. Ellie can't physically carry this many books back to her house, unless she brought a dolly.)

Yeah, it's gonna be a couple trips. Need to figure out how to store them, too.

Does Ellie's house have the room?

For the first load. After that... she's probably going to have to get rid of some of the books she already has. Or figure out how to make a magic pocket dimension.

"You shouldn't have to throw out books."

"A magic pocket dimension... Not easy, but we might be able to figure something out." And, teasingly: "Or just get you a bigger house, or build an outbuilding, or pull legal shenanigans so you have this property, level this house, and build another one."

"Don't suppose you have a hundred-year-old savings account that's been quietly accruing interest?"

Giggle. "I never trusted banks. But I do have assorted valuables in a locked box. Jewelry, mostly - not worth a house probably, but, I can do the construction myself, and many of the trees here are sturdy hardwoods."

"Maybe. That's going to take some preparation, though."

"But it'd be a fun project, if you want to stay in this town - or, bet we could sell the land and house."

"I'll think about it."